


A Mortal’s Guide to Accidentally Becoming a Goblin Queen

by Shaeydyrllah



Series: A Series of Dubious Guides that were Destined to be Ignored [2]
Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Adventure, Dreams, F/M, Humor, Labyrinth challenges, Rescuing Jareth, Romance, Sarah's journey to becoming the Goblin Queen, Time Travel, a bit later on this time, even though she's in denial, mostly prequel with flashes of sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26394250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaeydyrllah/pseuds/Shaeydyrllah
Summary: A King and a Queen once played a game, the consequences ricocheted into the past and the future and time doesn’t let itself be unravelled easily.Or,The tale of how Sarah first developed a penchant for time-travel and saving Kings, leading to her accidental acquisition of a throne.
Relationships: Jareth/Sarah Williams
Series: A Series of Dubious Guides that were Destined to be Ignored [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918249
Comments: 56
Kudos: 105





	1. Rule One: You must earn the Heart of the Labyrinth and its inhabitant’s love

**Author's Note:**

> So...some of you wanted a sequel...I guess this is more of a prequel with the occasional flash of a sequel. Wibbly-Wobbly-Timey-Wimey issues mean it gets to be both..?
> 
> This is going to be in chapters because quite frankly I don't have the motivation and attention span to hammer out 33k again with any consistency. (+I'll be going back to Uni in a couple of weeks, so chances are I'll be quite busy)
> 
> I wasn't sure about continuing the story since I kind of liked the ambiguity but you have all been so supportive and kind with your comments so I figured I'd give it a go. 
> 
> The whole storyline has been planned out pretty meticulously so even if I don't have much written yet I have a clear idea of where we're going. 
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story.

The Goblin King leaned heavily against the fountain. The gold of his hair glinted in the sunlight, brighter than the cheerful bubbling of the sweet nectar behind him, churning in the great bejewelled basin. Shadows cast by the peach tree to his right fanned out and offered a weak resistance against the blistering heat of the sun.

In his arms, he rocked The-Son-That-Wasn’t-Quite-His. Eyes alight with triumph, he grinned at She-Who-Wasn’t-Quite-His-Wife.

“No,” Sarah stated again, her eyes darted to her son nervously. Her words came out shakily as she attempted to catch her breath, long strands of hair escaped messily from the formerly neat coil of plaits on top of her head.

Everything had gone wrong.

The air around them shimmered disturbingly, iridescent like the smooth curvature of a bubble.

It felt easier to focus on this incongruous imperfection than to look upon Jareth’s gloating expression once more.

“No?” The Goblin King repeated mockingly. He shook his head, feigning sadness at her plight. “I’m afraid it’s already too late for that, little Queen.”

“We can’t stay here!” Sarah insisted. It was easy to brush off this feeling of wrongness as the product of her guilt, but there was something more to it, something that felt _dangerous_.

The Labyrinth was unsettled too. Its greedy grasp upon Sarah twisted uncomfortably; it clawed at her mind as though holding on for dear life. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes momentarily to centre herself as pain and dazzling gold light pounded at her skull and burned in her veins.

The Goblin King laughed, for all the arrogance and menacing power he exuded as he walked towards her, it was his hands that Sarah focused on. He was holding Avery so _gently_ , idly tracing a lazy path with his thumb along the outside of her son’s blanket.

“You know we can’t.” Sarah tried to reason. “Everything will end up in the wrong order.” She waved an arm, gesturing to the softly rippling air, as though hoping that Jareth could see the manifestation of her discomfort. “I can’t be stood here before you if you tear away our beginning.”

“Sweet Sarah, we began the moment I first laid eyes upon you.” He corrected her with obstinate amusement.

 _He was wrong in any case, she’d laid her eyes upon him first...or hadn’t she..._ Sarah dismissed the errant thought.

A sense of déjà vu swept over her. She was alarmed when her intuition suddenly screeched at her to pay _very_ close attention.

_A Goblin King, a Goblin Queen, a Goblin Babe, a Peach Tree (Rest In Peace Adam), a Fountain that wouldn’t be there for much longer..._

Of course, she was familiar with all of those things; she just didn’t understand why they were setting off alarm bells in her mind.

For a moment she thought she saw a flicker of movement near the peach tree.

“If not the beginning, what of the middle, you’ll erase the journey that brought me to you if you settle for a stolen ending?” Sarah continued to question him, her voice unsteady as she tried to ignore what was wrong with the world around her. “My younger-self will grow up to be a different Sarah.”

Jareth drew closer, mismatched eyes bored into her as he sought to see through whatever trap he believed she was concocting.

“If it is time that concerns you so, then I shall reorder it for you once more, I will write us a new story, _you’ve_ always loved stories, Sarah.” His arms jolted oddly as though he was about to make a dramatic gesture, no doubt summoning a breeze to cause his cape to flare out majestically, but remembered part-way through that he was still awkwardly cradling a baby. “Besides which, I cannot even look upon your younger counterpart since she spoke the Words, let alone court her. Why should I pursue another Sarah when the one before me is already in love with me?” His eyes gleamed challengingly.

Her chest tightened uncomfortably, unable to entirely refute his claim. She couldn’t ignore the bitterness in his voice as he reminded her of the epoch-defining moment in their history.

With dawning horror Sarah watched as the ground beneath them shifted, as though the Labyrinth were stretching its tightly coiled muscles, uncaring of the beings that lived upon it.

Sarah took a step forward, trying to stabilise her balance. Jareth continued to watch her calmly, indifferent to the blatant twisting of reality in front of his eyes.

“I want my husband back.” It was hardly an unreasonable request considering she had been the one to issue the challenge in the first place, not Jareth.

“Want, want, want, you never change.” The Goblin King taunted. Jareth shifted her son in his arms so his head lolled sleepily over his shoulder. Sarah supposed it was a good job he hadn’t chosen the spiked shoulder pads today, less he accidentally skewer her son. “I was under the impression that _I_ was your husband.”

Remorse settled upon her like a leaden weight and threatened to shatter her ribcage under the totality of its oppression. “Not yet,” she corrected, “And you may never be if you refuse to see sense.”

_Pay attention....need to pay attention..._

There were certainly many things that she could be paying attention to; the unsteadiness of the ground, the fact that stars battled against the glare of the sun to shine just as noticeably in the daylight, not to mention the strange gossamer-like sheen that hung in the air.

There was also a particularly irritating fly that kept darting in front of her face, daring her to destroy it with all the reckless confidence of a certain Goblin kicking Monarch.

The Goblin King tilted his head to the side in a considering manner, mirroring one of the more endearing mannerisms of his avian form. “Sense...the right time...” He pondered, “I care for neither of these things, they matter little to one such as I. Your husband failed the challenge _you_ set and so your child is forfeit, bound to _this_ time, _this_ Labyrinth.” A warm smile flitted across his face as Avery let out a small yawn before settling back against him. “I’ll be generous and give you a choice, leave the baby here with me and I’ll return you and your husband to your time, or you can choose to stay.”

_“Forget about the baby...”_

There was no chance in hell of her doing that.

She would wager he was well aware of this.

Sarah didn’t like being forced to choose; once upon a time she had rescued Toby from the Labyrinth _and_ she’d gained a throne... _after a fashion..._

Sarah grinned at him, “I choose neither.” She enjoyed the flash of surprise that crossed his face at her sudden bout of confidence.

“That isn’t an option.” He spoke slowly, as though believing that his desire for her to pick one of his two equally ridiculous options had simply eluded her.

“You’ve already said that things can be rewritten, and boy do we need to fix things since you messed everything up by keeping us here.” She back peddled as she took in his offended expression; his lips were curled into a sneer, “Fine, _we_ messed up.”

 _Not that it wasn’t an enjoyable process, just a potentially cataclysmic disaster that was hell-bent on unravelling the world around them_. She was pretty sure that actual pieces of the sky weren’t supposed to be falling but with any luck, some of it might hit that blasted relentless fly that was still buzzing around her head.

Jareth was either being very blasé about reality tearing at the seams or he was just plain oblivious, in any case, he seemed to be more occupied by their bickering (which wasn’t really anything new).

“Give me a reason,” Jareth spoke quietly. The burning hunger she had witnessed in his eyes as he took her apart in this very garden had returned with a vengeance. Sarah very deliberately refused to allow her gaze to stray to the peach tree. “Why should I let you all leave?”

Heart-warming pleas, painting pretty pictures of selfless love didn’t seem the best approach.

She couldn’t gain something without giving up something first.

These were the Labyrinth’s rules, created long before Jareth came along. There was a story there, a reason behind those rules but under the general stress of trying to hold both her family _and the world_ together she couldn’t quite recall that particular tale; it was important though, she knew that much.

“Because,” Sarah bit her lip, _pay attention_ , her mind screamed at her; _remember_ , it urged.

There was an ominous feeling present like she was standing atop an old rickety bridge above an endless canyon. The feeling told her she could let herself fall or she could push the person next to her. It was a terrible simile since it didn’t remotely reflect a situation she was likely to find herself in. Except, in this half-baked simile, she chose to push the person beside her and the screaming individual tumbling to their death stared at her in horror whilst wearing her own face.

“Because...I’m going to offer you a gift.”

~*o0o*~

Sarah’s eyes snapped open.

She sucked in a deep breath before urgently fumbling for the torch she kept on her bedside cabinet. Her breathing evened out as she watched the pervading darkness of the room recede under the weak beam of light. It was the best she could do.

Being caught with her bedroom light on during the dead of night by her father and stepmother had made her wary. Their repeated insistences that she needed more sleep and shouldn’t be up at the early hours of the morning fell upon deaf ears.

Sarah made sure to aim the torch’s light away from the door to ensure there was no evidence of her wakefulness for anyone passing by the outside of her room; just a slither of light and they’d be on her like bloodhounds.

She lay back on her bed, merely watching the spot of light on her ceiling, pondering whether it was worth closing her eyes again. Her heart was still hammering in an annoyingly insistent manner that made it difficult to relax; each thump was an irritating jolt, keeping her from drifting off to sleep.

It wasn’t like closing her eyes would do her much good anyway.

With a groan of annoyance, Sarah swung her legs off the bed and stumbled over to her vanity. She cringed as she tripped over a stray pair of boots, freezing in anticipation, hoping that no one had heard the thud. She was sure she’d put those away earlier.

Carefully, dragging her chair out and sitting down, she aimed her torch at the mirror. Sarah flinched as the light was reflected back, her eyes stung from the glare as she blinked away the splodges of light assaulting her retinas.

“Hoggle, Sir Didymus, Ludo.” She intoned their names in a low voice, staring at the deceptively ordinary glass. “I need you.” All things considered, it probably was an ordinary piece of glass, there didn’t seem to be anything intrinsically special about it; she’d owned it for years before her little _adventure_ and hadn’t seen hide nor hair of anything magical before then.

Sarah wondered if it would be possible to call her friends through a particularly sizeable puddle. It probably wouldn’t be worth attempting, since most of her friends from the Underground were a tad furrier than usual; it was unlikely that they’d be pleased by their sudden relocation through a barrier of water.

Perhaps, it was the inherent spookiness of mirrors, childish games of calling upon ‘Bloody Mary’ at sleepover parties somehow giving credence to their ability to be used as conduits for the abnormal. Sarah’s lips twisted into an amused smirk as she pictured her disgruntled trio of friends barging through her mirror in flowing white dresses with long matted wigs.

 _On second thoughts_ , if the dresses resembled the one she’d worn in that damnable peach hallucination, then they may actually be capable of striking terror into her heart.

The surface of the mirror rippled, less like the result of an innocent drop of rain, causing a subtle disturbance on the surface of a pond and more like a frenzied trout wading through custard.

Sarah cringed as her friends stumbled out of the mirror, the three of them managed to force themselves out of the comically narrow frame at the same time. This resulted in both Hoggle and Sir Didymus being pinned underneath Ludo’s enormous bulk as they toppled to the ground in a heap.

Any lingering hope of her family remaining blissfully unaware of the goings-on in her room evaporated faster than Ambrosius, the mighty canine steed, fleeing from danger.

Sarah left her friends groaning on the ground and made a dash for her bed. Unfortunately, the same pair of boots that had so treacherously lain in her path before, came back for round two, leading to her colliding with her bed and ending up sprawled out on the carpet; clutching at her duvet, she managed to drag it over herself half-heartedly.

Her door burst open and she closed her eyes in resignation.

“Sarah Williams, what on earth are you doing?” Karen demanded, exasperatedly. Her stepmother stood with her hands on her hips, her curls untidily coming free of her rollers.

Sarah briefly contemplated ignoring her and pretending she was asleep, her current position on the floor didn’t give her much credibility.

She squinted at Karen’s menacing figure in the doorway; she was framed by the unholy landing light, which she swore was nowhere near as bright as that during the day. “I fell out of bed?” Sarah offered.

“Why are you still on the floor?” Karen sighed, stepping further into the room; she removed the duvet from her stepdaughter and helped pull her to her feet. Sarah allowed herself to be manoeuvred with little resistance back into bed, only grumbling when Karen attempted to tuck her blanket around her as though she were a small child.

She shot a glare across the room as Hoggle snickered at her. Karen, of course, was none the wiser to the guests occupying the bedroom. How horribly convenient it was that her family couldn’t hear her friends from the Labyrinth speaking but were quite capable of hearing the various sounds of crashing and detached limbs hitting her window (the Fierys were not invited often).

“Goodnight Karen,” Sarah mumbled, struggling against the iron-clad grip of the blanket under her chin, restraining her much like a head placed upon a block before the guillotine. 

“Goodnight Sweetheart,” she responded wryly, “Try to get some sleep.” Apparently, Karen wasn’t entirely convinced by her helpless, beached whale performance. The door shut with a click, taking with it the wrathful glow of the hallway.

Sarah was relieved that her torch had rolled under the bed during her mad dash to take cover; explaining away, falling out of bed and accidentally landing on her torch, which just so happened had managed to turn itself on, would have been even less convincing.

She fought valiantly against the blanket and won, retrieving her torch and edging towards her friends she pointed the beam of light at them accusingly, “Nice job guys.”

“Sawah.” Ludo rumbled, enclosing her in his massive arms, he made a soft noise of contentment as Sarah buried her face in his fur, it smelt as though he had spent the day rolling around in a grassy meadow.

Peeling herself away, she offered a grin to Hoggle and Sir Didymus. Hoggle remained transfixed by the torch in her hands, watching it with curiosity.

“My Lady,” The small terrier Knight raised his cap and swept it into a bow, “My brothers and I, apologise for any disturbances we have caused you this fine evening. It is an honour as always to be in your presence.”

“Don’t apologise for me,” Hoggle complained, “She’s the one that crashed into ‘er own bed, the great lump.”

Sarah switched her torch off and sat on the floor cross-legged, leaning against Ludo’s warmth. “As charming as always Hoggle,” she teased, dragging him closer so she could hug him. Feigning displeasure, Hoggle shrugged himself free; she knew that he was smiling, even if she couldn’t clearly make out his expression in the dimness of the room.

Sarah felt like she was finally able to breathe easily.

She had faced the Labyrinth and managing to come out of it as the victor. Despite playing the heroine in contrast to the villainous King’s dastardly plots, a part of her still didn’t feel like the hero of the story.

Alice left Wonderland, Wendy left Neverland, Dorothy left Oz...and Sarah...she had left the Labyrinth; that’s how fairytales were supposed to go, even her little red book had ended that way.

But the Labyrinth hadn’t left her, she continued to call upon its residents as she wished, sharing a part of her life with what others would deem merely a fantasy.

Things aren’t always as they seem and heroism is nowhere near as straightforward as it looks. Her friends had grumbled good-naturedly about having to repair the damage to the Goblin City and had taken to complaining about their King’s mercurial temper, fairly often. Apparently, the Labyrinth had grown even more stubborn since she had left and even the residents of the Goblin Kingdom had difficulty navigating their way to their own homes.

She doubted that Alice cared about the chaos she left behind in the Queen of Heart’s courtroom, or that Dorothy was overly concerned about whether a new and just ruler had taken over from the Wicked Witch of the West she had murdered, even though the Wizard of Oz was sketchy at best. Did Wendy often think of Peter Pan after leaving his world of fantasy behind?

No, to them, their adventures remained dreams, wonderful dreams but dreams none the less. 

Dreaming was a tactless topic to bring up in front of Sarah.

Incidentally, her friends possessed very little tact.

“Sarah?” Hoggle started cautiously; at her affirmative hum, he wrung his hands for a moment before continuing. She could make out his shape easily enough in the dark, wanting to conserve the dying batteries in her torch. “Is it...you know...healthy to call on us all the time, instead of sleepin’” Unable to see the downturn of her mouth at his inquiry he pressed on, “Not that I’m complainin’ mind...it’s just you’re always so tired. Even if you can’t do _you know what_ , you still need to rest.” He reached for her hand to give it a comforting squeeze but was roughly swatted away when he grabbing a handful of Ludo’s furry arm instead.

“ _Dream_.” Sarah bit out, “You can say the word, Hoggle.” The word left a bitter taste in her mouth as she was filled with indescribable longing. Ludo didn’t protest when she dug her own fingers into his fur, twisting the fiery strands to distract herself.

“My Lady, we shall challenge the vile Monarch who has stolen from you, upon my word as a Knight.” Sir Didymus declared grandly. He swung his sword in the air wildly, as though expecting to find the Goblin King crouched behind her laundry hamper.

“Put that down you fool!” Hoggle hissed, “The other lady will come back and yell at Sarah if you keep making that racket.”

Sir Didymus froze immediately, weapon still poised to attack at a moment’s provocation. His beady eyes glanced at the door before letting out a sigh of reluctance. “As you wish, brother Hoggle. But should I happen upon the wicked foe, I reserve the right to defend the Lady Sarah.”

Their arguments in her defence caused warmth to bloom inside her chest, chasing away the icy hollowness left by her plight. She rose to her feet and walked over towards the curtains, ignoring Ludo’s fumbling attempt to keep her seated and curled up against his warmth.

Drawing the curtains back allowed a small amount of light in, the moon was full and heavy against the sky, which seemed to be absent of stars on this particular night, as though they were hiding. Even the stars were able to sleep, but not Sarah. Turning back around, she found she was now able to distinguish her friend's expressions, all of which unfortunately displayed different degrees of concern for her.

“I can’t ask that of you Didymus,” Sarah responded softly, her voice tinged with dismay. “I paid the price for my own selfishness; it’s my burden to bear.” She watched the Knight shake his head and bushy tail rapidly in disagreement; likely to start growling at any moment, she interrupted him, “Besides, do you really think you could convince _him_ to do something that isn’t in his best interest?”

A sneer crossed Hoggle’s face, “The _rat’s_ been in a right foul mood this past year since you won.” His voice shook slightly as referred to Jareth, still concerned that even in the absence of speaking his name aloud that he would somehow know he was being defamed. “Although...” He pondered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “He’s been in a better mood since those last Runners came; bin’ spending a lot of time in the Queen’s Garden he has. Those nosy lichens were babbling about it the other day, apparently, he’s taken to shouting abuse at a tree.” He shook his head in mock sympathy, “Off his rocker, that one.”

Sarah froze, feeling something in her chest lurch. It was a similar feeling to that which she experienced whenever she was confronted with the dawning realisation that Karen was intending to make her _famous_ Lasagne for dinner. Both undercooked and burnt, the travesty inflicted crippling agony but wasn’t quite severe enough for the merciful release of death.

“The...the Queen’s Garden?” She was pretty sure she’d missed the mark for nonchalance and was hurtling staggeringly towards the realms of morose depression. Meekly, she snuggled up against Ludo on the carpet once more as his large hands patted her on the head haphazardly.

“Sawah sad?” Ludo asked; she turned to look into his guileless eyes, a sense of discomfort creeping up on her.

“Just curious.” She corrected, “I didn’t know that the King was married.” Flashes of brightly coloured silks and soft glittering lights in a room woven from imagination, ricocheted through her mind like an angry nest of hornets. She forced away the sound of a desperate voice, beseeching her with promises that felt like dirt in her mouth as she soundlessly echoed the words he had spoken.

In reality, it looked more like she was doing a sterling goldfish impression.

It was none of her business and she didn’t care at all about the answer. She was just a remarkably good friend that often waited on bated breath for each word that fell from the mouths of her companions.

“No my Lady, there is no Goblin Queen.” Sarah narrowed her eyes at his oddly placating tone, suspicious of the way he was smiling at her.

“Yeah, like anyone would be mad enough to marry him.” Hoggle snorted. “The Queen’s Garden belongs to his older sister, the Ruler of the Crystal Kingdom. He shivered, glancing around the room twitchily as though expecting to see one of those blasted orbs on the ground next to him. “You couldn’t pay me to step foot there, it’s real’ creepy.”

Sarah gave a wordless sound of agreement, less intrigued by her friend’s fear of the aforementioned Queen and more concerned by the dizzying wave of relief that crashed over her. Clearly, the lack of sleep was getting to her.

_He has no power over me._

The comforting mental refrain did little to ease her mind.

She briefly wondered whether she would be asking too much of her friends if she asked them to stay with her while she tried once again to force herself to fall sleep. Even if she didn’t stay asleep for very long, surely it would be better to attempt to do so when she was feeling comfortable and safe in their presence... **away from the gaping nothingness.**

Her musing was brought to a swift halt by a solid thump against her window pane.

~*o0o*~

Sarah locked eyes with the spectral figure perched on her window ledge. Dark haunting eyes stared back unblinkingly.

_No...no way..._

She was having difficulty computing what she was seeing. In fact, her mind was retreating into the safer territories of blatant denial, located just adjacent to ‘the-lands-of-half-hearted-attempts-at-indifference’.

There were barn owls in America: fact.

Not all barn owls are Goblin Kings in disguise: also a fact.

However, if Sarah’s life could be over complicated in some way then it surely would be (her request for the Goblins to take her brother away being interpreted as literal being the case in point), unfortunately: a fact.

The apprehension displayed across her face rapidly transformed into a menacing glare. Her eyes were burning from the lack of sleep, and it was one o’clock in the morning; _thirteen o’clock...comes after twelve..._ the part of her buried under those blankets of denial whispered.

Her piercing glower was supposed to be threatening not watery and strained and having a staring contest with an owl of all creatures was frankly not one of her smarter ideas. So caught up in her thoughts, she failed to notice that her friends had also grown silent in mutual horror.

Sarah couldn’t remember detangling herself from Ludo to cautiously approach the window. She briefly eyed the chair tucked into her vanity, weighing up its potential ability to protect her versus how ridiculous it would look.

_It’s an owl, not a freaking lion, get it together Williams!_

_Far more dangerous than a lion..._ came the mental correction.

Deciding that it would take a far bigger, glitterier chair to take down the Goblin King, she cast the plan aside and continued on towards the window; she was close enough for her breath to cause the glass to mist over.

At last, the owl blinked; Sarah counted it as a small victory.

Upon noticing Sarah’s proximity and scrutiny the owl thrust one of its wings outwards, holding it at a seemingly uncomfortable angle.

Sarah bit her lip thoughtfully. She knew next to nothing about owls’ physiology, except for the fact that they weren’t supposed to be sparkly. Although, she had never seen a bird bend its wing quite like that.

_Maybe it’s like being double-jointed..._

Failing to arouse pity, the owl hopped forward and let out a mournful screech (because barn owls couldn’t make cute little ‘hooting’ noises like other owls, they had to sound like a banshee with tonsillitis), it stumbled into the glass before retreating backwards.

She narrowed her eyes at it suspiciously, “Are you pretending to be injured?”

Sarah stared at the owl incredulously as it tilted its head downwards and let out another sad call, it’s oddly bent wing wavered in the air before being tucked back in closer to its body, giving up on the whole pretence.

“Maybe we should be going.” She distantly heard Hoggle mumble from across the room; his gruff voice was filled with trepidation.

Sir Didymus’s chastisement and sword brandishing was cut off by a clamorous roar of thunder. Rain began to pelt the window with gusto, leaving a rather dishevelled owl to shiver pitifully on her window ledge.

“No, absolutely not!” The Labyrinthine Champion stated firmly. _Goblin King or not, who lets a wild animal into their room?_ “I’m not going to feel bad for you just because of a little rain. You’re not even a real owl.” To contradict her words a blinding flash of light lit up the sky, followed by the thunder’s goading taunt. She really hoped she wasn’t trying to intimidate an ordinary bird that had ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. “And you’re not welcome in my house.”

“King Chicken!” Ludo roared from behind. She spared him a glance as he waved a large hairy fist in the direction of the owl.

Sir Didymus tutted, “My good Sir, the King is a feline not a common form of poultry, have you not seen his shapely eyes?”

“I can’t believe he wins at scrabble,” Hoggle interjected miserably, edging closer and closer to her vanity’s mirror.

Sarah shook her head at their antics; she moved her hands to the edges of her curtains, toying with the floaty pink fabric. “Maybe Ludo’s right,” her lips curled up into a taunting smile feeling secure behind her wall of glass and barrier of spoken Words that negated his power over her. “The King is a chicken.”

All at once, the rain came to a jarring halt and the thunder was cut off mid rumble. Sarah shivered at the eerie silence left in their absence.

The owl started to flap its wings and slam aggressively into the window.

Sarah decided it was an excellent time to close the curtains and go to bed.

Perhaps she was a bit of a chicken too.

Rapidly moving away from her window, she was unable to keep her eyes off of the silhouette’s frantic movements and the dull thud of her window being assaulted.

 _Go ahead,_ she thought angrily, _give yourself a concussion; see if I care._

The furiously writhing shadow vanished. The four friends tried to exchange worried looks but were ultimately unable to see each other clearly now that the curtains were drawn. Sarah wasn't sure where she had placed her torch. They dared not hope that the owl had been bested by three inches of glass and a pair of curtains. Nevertheless, they continued to stare at the pair of drawn curtains as though at any moment they might be ripped from their rail in a shower of glitter that would take months to vacuum properly.

“King Chicken gone?” Ludo asked his companions, growing bored of staring at something that was so tragically bereft of rocks.

Sarah nodded her head shakily, feeling the hummingbird flutter of her heart reduce to a slower tempo. She felt rather silly, hiding in the dark from a bird that had temporarily graced her window ledge.

She really should try to get some sleep, or she’d end up hurling rocks at the commonplace sound of a pigeon flapping its wings on her way to class. She didn’t need to give her classmates any more cause to gossip about her idiosyncrasies.

Sarah shot to her feet as she heard the turn of her door handle, managing to knock Hoggle over in the process, she dove for her bed for the second time that evening. This time she succeeded in landing on her mattress instead of the floor. Admittedly, sitting upright in bed with a duvet thrown haphazardly over your head was also an unlikely sleeping position.

She remedied this by calling out to the figure that had burst into her room. "I'm asleep Karen, go away!" It came out a bit muffled since she was still hiding but she thought she'd got the sentiment across admirably.

“Let it be said.” Spoke a cool mocking voice from the doorway, rich with disdain. A voice she had tried so desperately not to think about, despite the fact that the melodious tone and scathing words had been forever branded into her memory. “That I am no chicken.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know...I know most of you wanted future Jareth to win (all but one), and quite frankly if I had intended to leave the story there then future Jareth would have won and they'd just go home. But...that doesn't make for an exciting plotline...so consider this as the timeline in which younger Jareth wins...which unfortunately causes all kinds of problems.
> 
> Have you guys looked up barn owl sounds, 'cause holy shit they don't sound as endearing as they look. 
> 
> The next chapter is a continuation of 16 yr old Sarah (so technically it's set in the same time period as the previous story), then there'll be a time skip to Sarah in her 20s for the majority of the story afterward.
> 
> So...what do you think was Sarah's gift to Jareth? ;-)


	2. Rule Two: You have to believe you have the power and the will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is arguing (isn't there always), and a dream that doesn't go quite how either of them thought it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the first and second half of this chapter are very different in tone but I didn't feel like splitting it into separate chapters, so enjoy 7k.
> 
> Thanks so much for commenting and giving me kudos, your support means a lot to me. XD

Sarah stiffened abruptly. Her trembling hands clung to the edges of her duvet, unwilling to unveil her face. With her sight obscured she could pretend, just for the moment that she was dreadfully mistaken.

Perhaps, Hoggle’s impersonations of his Royal Annoyance had drastically improved since last week; his prior attempt of stomping around her room in her winter boots and proffering her a battered orange from the bottom of her school bag (the best he could do on short notice) had been met with hilarity but ultimately his performance wasn’t _quite_ convincing enough for this.

For one thing, there wasn’t nearly enough glitter. _Then again, all of the kindergarten arts and crafts programmes in the world couldn’t compete with Ja-the Goblin King’s glitteriness._

Alas, Sarah had to gather the courage to peek out at the intimidating figure in the doorway, lest she be labelled a chicken in return.

And there he was, in heavy black armour with a long sweeping cloak, dark enough to blend in with the shadows of the room. Even though neither of them had switched on her bedroom light, every detail of his haughty, arrogant face was visible. It was as if the Goblin King himself were capable of radiating a soft silvery light.

Finally able to tear her eyes away from him, Sarah noticed her friends recoil in horror and back away as their King advanced into the room. He followed her gaze, his lips curling into a sardonic smile as he revelled in the shivering terror of her companions.

His movements were slow and deliberate. Sarah didn’t know if he was giving her time to acclimatise to his presence or if he simply enjoyed building up an aura of ominous tension, _probably the latter_.

She was captivated by him.

Although she had packed away many of her toys since her foray into the Labyrinth she couldn’t help but feel like her attempt to capture magic in the very walls of her room, from the books that lined the shelves to the artwork on her walls, had disastrously fallen short. Like a crippled ant attempting the long jump. The ethereal glow he cast in the room made all of her possessions seem like a cheap and fragile imitation of the real thing she sought.

Whilst she certainly wasn’t best pleased that an otherworldly Fae King had barged into her room in the middle of the night (one that most likely held a substantial grudge against her), another part of her that had grown complacent, her edges dulled by the blandness of reality, was thrilled.

The Goblin King, a figure from which magic seeped and dreams were woven, stood before her. And all at once, that feeling of enthrallment faded as she was given a keen reminder of what her life now sorely lacked.

“Fair enough,” Sarah responded at long last. He had clearly been enjoying her dumbfounded expression, mismatched eyes burning with a strange intensity she recalled seeing in the Upside-Down-Never-Right-Room-Of-Stairs-That-She-Was-Glad-Wasn’t-Housed-In-Her-School-Since-Getting-To-The-Top-Floor-For-English-Class-Frequently-Winded-Her. “I don’t suppose chickens are all that skilled at _breaking and entering_ , what with the lack of opposable thumbs and all.”

Offence flashed across his face, “I do not recall doing any _breaking_.” He smirked at her as she tugged herself free of her duvet armour and went to stand in front of her friends. They flinched backwards as she approached as though unwilling to have the Goblin King’s attention drawn to them again. “As for your recent fixation with poultry...” He trailed off tapping a gloved finger against his chin, thoughtfully. “It is quite a change from your love of heroic Princesses and Princes. Or Kings.” His grin widened at the addendum. “Is that what you dream of these days, _a valiant chicken’s quest to cross the bloodstained crossroad under a new moon?_ ”

Sarah stared at him blankly for a long moment, she felt like this was somehow meant to resemble a deep and meaningful quote given the seriousness of his tone. All that came out of her mouth was: “Is that supposed to be the set up of a bad joke?”

As nonchalant and put together as she sounded, internally she was half hysterical with disbelief that she was conversing with the Goblin King about things of such insignificance.

She was ignoring the elephant in the room, or the bizarre chicken in the room (the King really shouldn’t quit his day job and take up stand up comedy if he thought this was a _good_ joke.) She should be asking him what _he_ was doing in her room.

She watched a frown mar the King’s forehead at her query. Before she could pursue the line of questioning further Hoggle saw fit to enlighten her by muttering a response. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite audible unless the intended recipient was his brown laced-up boots.

“I’m sorry?” Sarah prompted him to repeat it.

“S’a riddle.” He finally croaked out, averting eye contact with the King that was openly sneering at him.

“A most intriguing conundrum that confounds even the keenest minds of the Underground.” Sir Didymus added eagerly, unaware of the apparent danger in their midst.

“Cat Lady mad.” Ludo nodded his head; his long horns caught a picture frame, sending it toppling to the ground with a clatter.

Just what she needed, more noise to wake her family. She wasn’t sure what a fight between the King of the Goblins and her stepmother would look like but part of her was rooting for Karen succeeding with the wrath of her astoundingly heavy ironing board and coercing the King into doing the laundry.

“Indeed.” The daunting figure that loomed over them confirmed. “Since you are so fond of them, I’ll be kind enough to grace you with one of my own.” The smile he wore was anything but friendly; there were too many teeth that seemed jagged and inhuman. _“I quench no thirst nor hunger, though I inspire a hunger to reverse the potency of my gift. My gift is forever and forever shall you try to be rid of me.”_

Sarah glanced worriedly at her friends who continued to mull over the King’s words with great confusion. Personally she thought the riddle itself wasn’t a lot to go on, but knowing the Goblin King, she had a sneaking suspicion of what he was eluding to.

Seeing a blatant lack of fear from his subjects the King decided to abandon all subtlety.

“I rhyme with the Hog of Nocturnal Bench.” He looked temporarily hopeful at the glint of recognition in Didymus’ eyes.

The terrier Knight waved his sword around frantically, running headfirst into Hoggle, who seemed to be suffering from a lot of collisions this evening. “Ah yes, Sire, the Dog of the Infernal Wench.” He puffed his chest out proudly. Hoggle let out a pained sound, bulbous eyes widening in horror as he realised the King’s meaning.

The King let out a long-suffering sigh, exchanging a meaningful look with Sarah as if to say: ‘you see what I have to put up with.’ At least that’s how Sarah interpreted it; he could just as easily have been constipated.

He raised a hand, summoning a crystal into existence; he rolled it around slowly, tauntingly.

Sarah was transfixed by the sight of the orb, biting down on her lip, she could recall too easily the way her dreams were obliterated; an insignificant pop of a little soap bubble.

“How would you like another hint, a physical prompt even?” He offered; the intricate movements of his fingers ceased, the muscles in his shoulders were tensed and poised to strike. Before she could leap out of the way the crystal was casually tossed before her feet, exploding into a shower of silver.

When the blinding assault of glitter faded, much to her surprise, Sarah found herself stood exactly where she was before.

Minus her friends.

Sarah attempted to appear threatening in her polka-dot nightdress, watching him sternly with her arms crossed. She couldn’t rule out the possibility that it was fatigue that was causing her eyes to droop as opposed to her narrowing them in a display of intimidation.

The Goblin King didn’t have the decency to even pretend to look cowed. In fact, he looked rather satisfied with his dismissal of her friends.

“What did you do to them?” Her voice dripped with resentment.

He simply raised an eyebrow, “Surely you don’t require me to add another line to my riddle. As the Champion of my Labyrinth one would think you capable of unravelling it from the very first word that left my mouth.”

_Champion of the Labyrinth._

When Sir Didymus had referred to her by that title she had thought it the result of his over-exuberant eloquence. When the King of the Goblins spoke the title, it rang with power. A strange tingling sensation built up on the back of her neck and sent waves of something she couldn’t quite name, surging through her skull.

“If you hurt them-”

“Peace” He raised a hand in what was supposed to be a calming gesture but looked more like he was directing a particularly violent stream of traffic. “I did not say they would land in the _clue_ , I just gave them the chance to see it.” He wrinkled his hawkish nose, “Or take note of it using their other, more stimulated senses.”

So, her friends weren’t horribly traumatised and destined to spend their days in isolation from the rest of their Kingdom. That didn’t mean she would forgive him for sending them away from her.

They were supposed to be there whenever she needed them; despite previously facing the King alone, she felt their notable absence this time around.

Sarah felt a stab of horror at the realisation of just how much she had come to rely on their presence during her evenings. Her friends were gone and it was _his_ fault.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was too quiet, too tightly controlled. The words she spoke felt heavy in her mouth. This was entirely off-script; after all, the Labyrinth book that she had cherished didn’t have a sequel.

‘What-To-Do-When-The-King-Of-The-Goblin’s-Reappears-For-Idle-Small-Talk’, or the lesser-known spin-off: ‘How-To-Evict-Local-Poultry-Enthusiast-From-Your-Room-In-The-Middle-Of-The-Night.’

She spared a futile glance towards her bookshelf in the vain hope of one of those books magically materialising. Come to think of it she couldn’t recall buying the original tale, one day she’d found it wedged between her copy of ‘Grimm’s Fairy Tales’ and one of her father’s misplaced law textbooks.

She may have been better off studying the law book in anticipation of avoiding verbally binding contracts; not that mortal law would have done her much good in the Labyrinth anyway.

Alas, her prayers weren’t answered, there was no new leather-bound book she could seize to banish the Goblin King from her bedroom. The chair tucked into her vanity, on the other hand, was looking more and more appealing.

She could be The-Champion-That-Vanquished-The-Goblin-King-With-Her-Rickety-Second-Hand-Chair; they’d write ballads about her.

He tilted his head with a considering look upon his face; his hands were restless by his sides as though tempted to start spinning another crystal between them. “I recently acquired a gift.” His mouth twisted into an amused grin, “It was a... _generous_ gift. It reminded me that lost things need not remain lost forever.” He began to step closer to Sarah, who refused to back away and lose whatever feigned confidence she possessed. “I decided that I could afford to be generous to you once more, _Sa-rah_.”

The deliberate pronunciation of her name with an odd sing-song lilt sent a flash of fear through her. His eyes drank her in eagerly, his gaze refusing to stray from her for even a moment. He looked at her as though he couldn’t quite believe she was in front of him and blinking was a risky concession that could lead to her inexplicably disappearing in the brief moment in which his eyes were closed.

She didn’t like this game; she wasn’t going to play it.

“You’re not welcome in my room.” She didn’t know which stories about the Fae were true and whether revoking his right to be there would even work. It seemed that she was toeing the line between vampire mythology and good old stranger-danger advice, _do not engage._ “I could scream.” She offered, half-heartedly. She felt far too fatigued to put on a great melodramatic performance of a damsel in distress; in any case, she thought it seemed a bit demeaning.

She hadn’t screamed at him when he had first appeared and she had no intention of doing so now. She was the heroine of the story, the Champion even.

And here stood her villain; he adopted an expression of distaste at her words. “Do you think your cries would rally your family against me?” He looked as though he was considering what a war waged by the Williams against him would entail. “Your family slumbers, sweet one, lost in their dreams. Something I’m afraid you haven’t experienced for some time.”

Sarah immediately became cold, cut off. “I suppose you’re positively gleeful. I couldn’t just go home with the brother that _you stole_ ; you had to take my dreams from me in revenge.”

She could hear the distant roll of thunder swelling in the sky, paired with the darkened look on the Goblin King’s face, it didn’t bode well.

“I did not, nor have I ever _stolen_ a child.” He bit out, his voice terse with irritation. “As for your dreams, I’m sure that you recall me offering them.” He made a twisting motion with his fingers, a clear sphere sat there, waiting to be spun, waiting to be twisted by his desires. “And you, _rejecting_ them.”

It didn’t take a genius to pick up on the secondary meaning of his words, given the viciousness of which he spat the word ‘ _rejecting_.’

“I had to get my brother back.” Sarah denied, “What kind of person would I be to let you keep him in exchange for anything, even if it was my dreams.” Her thoughts turned melancholy as she recalled the surreal quality of the peach-dream, twirling and spinning until she was so dizzy she lost all sense of self; her only anchor was a firm pair of hands guiding her. “Besides, I thought you were talking about my dreams in the sense that you were offering me my fantasies, not threatening to take away my actual _ability_ to dream.”

The Goblin King looked affronted as her words turned vitriolic, “You are ever so careless with your words little girl. Do you have any idea of what you did to yourself?” He sneered in return as she scowled at his form of address. “Where do you think it is that the dreams of mortals are born, are woven and bestowed upon the hungry escape-driven minds of humanity?” He raised the orb in his hand, allowing her to see flashes of what seemed to be a grand dinner party and a ceremonial stage. “These are your mother’s dreams, and what lavish dreams she has. A pity that her only child holds no place in them.”

Sarah had often heard that cruel words felt like knives; instead of knives, she felt like she had been submerged in an icy lake, watching the dim light of the sun fade away as she descended into the darkened depths.

He could have been lying.

She knew that lying wasn’t supposed to be part of his nature if her research was correct.

Perhaps it didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would because she was aware of this bitter truth already; she was tired of making up excuses for why her famous mother, adored by all, especially her own daughter, neglected to answer her phone calls.

“If you’ve just come here to be spiteful and mock me and my friends, you can just return home to your perfect life and your perfect little dream world.” She spat, no longer caring if she insulted him grievously. He had no right to be here, not after everything he had done to her.

Sarah flushed slightly, she could feel her cheeks heat up with her rage, silently furious that she had to be the unfortunate type that tended to cry when angry. No one ever took you seriously when you had tears streaming down your cheeks. Angrily, forcing her tear ducts to cooperate, she watched as the Goblin King frowned at her as though puzzled by her distress. She deliberately averted his gaze and kept her eyes fixed upon the ground, _perhaps Hoggle had been on to something._

“Come, come, Sarah, will you really dismiss someone who has come all this way, across Kingdoms and the boundaries between reality, just to bestow upon you a gift?” He wheedled, cruel in his duplicitous kindness.

“I don’t want anything from you.” Her nails bit into the palms of her hands as she clenched them into fists. It seemed that she would never escape from the consequences of her mistakes.

He tutted at her refusal to look up at him. “Do you know what happens to those without dreams?” His voice softened as he urged her to indulge him. “They waste away into lifeless husks, a bleeding void from which all their bonds have irreversibly snapped.”

The image he painted was less than pleasant.

Sarah sucked in a deep breath, trying to prevent herself from hyperventilating as she recalled the endless abyss, without sight or sound in which she dwelled for those few agonising hours where she closed her eyes to rest; returning to wakefulness gasping and pleading for her friends to provide her with comfort and warmth.

“You’ll give me my dreams back?”

His smile was vicious and deadly, infinitely pleased that she was looking upon his face again. “Last time I exhausted myself to fulfil your demands, taking your unwanted child, coaxing my Labyrinth to become more of a challenge for one as daring as you.” The crystal he had been toying with, no longer showed the desire for the applause of an adoring crowd, it remained clear, a blank canvas waiting to be filled. “Sarah, this time I require a small token for my efforts.”

She didn’t know why he was doing this to her. _Did he wish to crush her victory even more firmly underfoot?_

“I’ll bet.” She glared at him hatefully, already trying to come up with a way to wriggle out of offering up her firstborn child to him. _Wasn’t that how these fairy tale deals tended to go?_ Letting him lay his hands on her hypothetical firstborn was the last thing she’d ever let him do. “What is this _small_ token?”

His smile was almost warm, softer somehow as he gazed at her for a long moment. “It has been such a long time since I have been able to craft a dream for you after you revoked my influence, I’m afraid I’m dreadfully out of practice.” She wasn’t fooled by his pretence of innocence. “Allow me to spin a dream for us to _share_ and your dreams shall be returned to you.”

She didn’t believe what he was implying for a second. Unfortunately, she truly missed being able to dream. _Even if the Goblin King concocted the most horrific nightmare imaginable, wouldn’t it be worth it to get her dreams back?_ Surely, she could survive one night of his company if she could avoid the dismal fate he had warned her about.

“One dream. For one night.” Sarah clarified, desperately thinking of ways in which this deal could be twisted against her, “Ending at 7am so I can wake up in time for school. You can’t keep me trapped in the dream and muck about with time so I stay longer.”

The Goblin King shook his head, more amused if anything by her attempts at bargaining. “Half of the night has already elapsed, taken up by your righteous protests and your precious little sleepover with your friends.” His eyes followed her as she took small steps backwards until she hit her bed, perching on the edge of her duvet with weary eyes and a worn-out expression he seemed to take pity on her. “Thirteen hours of dreams. Surely you need it after your hopeless attempts to find respite without my aid. I’ll concede to your demand to be awoken in time for your educational needs.”

Sarah’s face screwed up in exasperation. “You can’t fit thirteen hours between now and 7am.”

“Can’t I?” His voice was thick with oozing pride as he casually implied her lack of chronokinesis talent was somehow a personal failing.

“So...when are we doing this?” She spoke grudgingly.

He stepped closer towards her; his mismatched eyes gleamed with victory as he watched her shrink more heavily into her mattress. The legs she had been swinging, thrumming with nervous energy now sat tucked underneath her as she continued to cautiously watch his approach.

Perhaps, desisting from dangling her legs over the side of the bed was a pointless effort to protect herself from the unnamed and hopefully imaginary monsters hiding under her bed. She didn’t need their input when there was a much more threatening monster stood in front of her.

“So, you agree?” The Goblin King sounded almost breathless, not daring to hope that what he had spent a year being denied of was finally falling into his grasp.

Saying: ‘do your worst’ can’t have been the most intelligent thing to come out of her mouth. Especially, since the Goblin King’s feral grin promised he had no difficulty doing just that.

Before she could attempt to clear up the fact that what she said was meant as a figure of speech, cool gloved fingertips briefly made contact with her temples and the world unravelled around her.

~*o0o*~

It would be a cliché to say dancing with him was akin to flying. Their movements were fluid and graceful; there was something far more elegant about dancing than there was walking or jumping or even doing the hopscotch.

Perhaps it was more like swimming. The crowd around them parted like waves, although each of the minute movements around them caused them to be buffeted along with the tide of swaying bodies.

There was a sense of heaviness that assailed her as opposed to the lightweight freefall of soaring through the skies. It was a strange kind of heaviness, more comforting than restrictive like a thick comforting quilt. The weight of the hands directing her embraced and guided her through the crowd’s curiosity, lapping at them eagerly.

Swimming seemed to be a less stylish form of movement, but it cannot be argued against that the sea is a powerful and dangerous force of nature indeed.

Flying, swimming or dancing, it didn’t occur to her to ponder what she was doing. All she knew was that as she spun and the room twisted around her in turn, that she had reached a level of peace she hadn’t felt in a long time.

She looked up at the familiar face belonging to the one that was holding her; his expression was unusually tender at that moment, free of its usual scheming glint. A small frown crossed her face as this observation came to mind.

She knew that this peculiar serenity was incongruous, and yet she couldn’t quite recall why she should be wary of her companion’s usual temperament. Instead, she sought to focus on other aspects of his appearance aside from the curve of his smile, that didn’t cause such conflict within her thoughts.

 _He is quite beautiful_ , she decided. Immediately she averted her eyes, missing that flash of amusement that brightened in his gaze at her bashfulness.

He was so bright, so other, so unique. Her mind felt too hazy to do him any justice as she struggled to ascribe words to him.

She should be concerned that her head was notably absent of such important details of why she was here, where here was exactly. It should be frightening that admiring him and revelling in their gentle turns in the silver, streamer strewn ballroom, occupied her mind to such an intense degree.

Now that she could finally draw her attention away from him she was able to take better notice of the other guests. Their movements were somehow more languid, maintaining a greater amount of contact with their partners who they continued to touch in a way that could only loosely be called dancing if she looked at them with her eyes crossed and unfocused.

Their garb, whilst elaborate in shape and design held only the dullest of pigments, they faded in and out of the background with their obscured faces like shadows in comparison to the radiance of her and her partner’s apparel.

It was very... _glittery..._

Not that she thought there was a problem with glitter but part of her couldn’t help but feel as though this detail should significantly annoy her.

“Sarah.” He murmured at last. It was a good job that he was the one to break the silence, perhaps they would have continued to silently spin forever in this ballroom of twisting figures and obscure masks.

Sarah must have been _her_ name. Her companion wasn’t looking at anyone else in their vicinity. _Sa-rah...Sa-rah..._ she liked the way it sounded in his mellifluous voice. Even if it were not her name she thought she’d be willing to let him address her as such, just to hear the warmth in his voice as his mouth tenderly curled around those two syllables.

“Sarah.” She echoed back, her forehead scrunched up in confusion. She felt quite silly parroting what he was saying, her tongue feeling clumsy in her mouth after an extended absence of conversing. “Is that who I am?”

Her partner seemed amused by her bewilderment, offering no comment as he adjusted his hold on her waist and spun her around again. She saw flashes of the other dancers watching them with great interest; those lurking in the alcoves ceased their actions to stare at them. It was as though her companion’s verbalisation of her name had sent a potent ripple throughout the room.

She should be aggravated by his refusal to answer her but she was unable to shake off the heady feeling of comfort he exuded as he held her in his arms. Carefully, she leaned forward so that she could rest her head against his shoulder. His grip tightened at her gesture of affection and switched to gently swaying them in one spot on the polished star-studded ground.

Keeping her gaze away from the crowd around them, she tried to ignore the sensation of too many eyes following their movements. They were able to hide behind their deformed masks with grotesque features, leering out at her; she had only a shoulder to cling to and a veil of golden hair to restrict her face from being seen.

She thought her companion seemed pleased about their change in position; he hummed softly under his breath in time to music she could only faintly make out over the loquacious guest's babbling.

“I don’t like them watching me.” She mumbled, feeling embarrassed to admit her discomfort to the one she danced with.

Looking at him was like looking into the sun, it hurt her to look upon such perfection. But he was almost too sterile, too statue-like in his flawlessness, it brought the first twinges of unease into her previously empty thoughts.

It should be cause for alarm when the sun stared back, when it sought to consume and lavish its attention upon a befuddled mortal. It should be downright terrifying when the sun yielded to her touch, sucking in a deep breath as she nuzzled her head closer into the crook of its neck, softening the sharp angles of its body to accommodate her.

“Then I shall be the only one to watch over you.” He returned, softly urging her to look up again with a small squeeze of his gloved hand.

She would have stumbled backwards in shock if he didn’t have hold of her by her waist. The gossamer silver sheen of the ballroom melted away into rich verdant greenery.

They appeared to be in a fairly decent sized garden, surrounded by trees. In the centre stood a curious-looking water fountain made up of jagged shards of glass, from which flowed a substance that looked like honey if not for the vastly reduced viscosity.

There was a tree next to the fountain; it appeared to be oddly out of place, given that its great boughs cast shadows over the garden’s centrepiece but she was hardly in a position to critique someone else’s property. No, she was far more fascinated by how she had come to be in this new location away from the insincere smiles and cold eyes that the masks had failed to hide.

Her partner’s arms were still around her, he took a small step backwards and carefully urged her to follow his movements as he resumed their graceful circling motions around the garden’s clearing. The grass seemed inviting, warmed by the sun; she idly wondered what it would feel like to tread upon it barefoot.

There were questions she should be asking, _how did we get here? Who are you? Who am I?_

And yet gaining answers was of less importance at that moment. What was important was the fact that she felt happy that he was still dancing with her away from everyone else. He had caused the ballroom to vanish and he had done it at her request.

“Better?” He inquired, not quite teasing but still entertained by her death grip on him after their sudden transportation. “This was how things were supposed to be.” He sounded thoughtful as he took in her perplexed expression, “There’s nothing for you to worry about Precious Thing; you’ll never have to worry about anything again.”

Contently, she rested her head against his shoulder again, enjoying the way that the sunlight glinted off their clothing, uncaring whether or not her dress would be muddied as they danced upon the grass, growing closer to the tree.

“I wish I knew your name.” She whispered; her words half-buried into the material of his crystal-encrusted lapels.

She didn’t know who Sarah was to this person.

She didn’t know who her dance partner was to Sarah.

What she did know was that he was somehow responsible for this feeling of bliss and safety, a sanctuary away from strife and conflict she couldn’t even recall nor want to recall.

He deserved to have his name uttered back just as reverently. It may have been only a small token way of returning his kindness but surely he had earned that much.

She startled as she heard her partner let out a deep sigh, reverberating from his ribcages; his warm breath hit the back of her neck, sending shivers dancing down her spine. “Why would you do a thing like that?” His disappointment was almost palpable.

They drew closer and closer to the tree, her partner’s movements suddenly quickening as he practically tugged her forwards instead of stepping with her.

She lifted her head to look upon his face once more; the sharp aristocratic planes of his face were drawn into an expression of wry exasperation.

_Jareth._

Her mouth disobediently spoke the name that her mind was now screaming at her in warning. She was not a wave upon the ocean woven into his elegant dance, she was a defenceless ship caught up in a maelstrom.

His- _Jareth’s_ lips curved up into a rueful smile as she shoved him backwards, just as she had done a year ago in the last dream she’d ever had.

Last time she hadn’t had the satisfaction of watching the regal Goblin King slam into a tree.

It was only now that she paid attention to what was at the foot of the tree; a small ring of toadstools that sat there innocently.

A fairy ring.

Betrayal. Disgust. Even worse, disappointment. Each sent a lance of pain through her chest.

 _Sarah,_ her name, definitely hers; it didn’t belong to him. It wasn’t allowed to cross his poisonous serpent tongue.

 _Sarah_ glared vehemently at the Goblin King, who continued to look as though she had mildly inconvenienced him; then, he tilted his head and frowned lightly at the barrier of toadstools that now separated the two of them.

“Jareth.” This time she spat his name as though it tasted as rotten as the worm-infested peach she once held in her amnesia-addled grasp.

His mismatched eyes lit up at hearing his name on her tongue, irrespective of the bitterness of her voice.

“Sarah.” He returned, just as readily. “Did you really have to wake at such a pivotal moment?” He shook his head in chastisement.

Her glare intensified, “But I’m not really awake, am I? This is still part of the dream, the one you insisted we share.”

Light no longer set the garden aglow, the sun was shrouded by clouds and the cold air bit into the exposed skin of her bare neck.

The Goblin King held his hand out to her, edging closer to the line of toadstools but not crossing them. “Step into the circle, Sarah.”

She shook her head, taking a step _away_ from him, desperately hoping that now he’d crossed into the circle he would be restricted from leaving it.

He had danced with her again; he’d smiled at her, making her feel like he’d cared. But everything he’d ever done was nothing but a manipulation.

Would he entrap her? Keep her as a living statue to watch over his weird little garden that didn’t even have normal flowing water. _Who even wanted to drink whatever syrupy concoction that dwelled in the fountain?_

The drinker would probably go into a diabetic coma at the first taste.

“Give me one good reason.” This time when Sarah took another step back she could hear an unsettling crunch underfoot. The grass beneath her had dried and withered, turning an ashy shade of grey.

The Goblin King- _Jareth_ , the name that had jolted her into awareness; his hand wavered for a moment before falling to his side. His body stiffened as he took in the decaying landscape, the way the tree above him bowed forward and leaves started to fall out in messy clumps. She would have laughed at his affronted expression when those leaves ended up in his hair if the situation were less dire.

“You belong here.” He insisted; his voice was painfully earnest as though there was no alternative in his mind. “You are a being that has spent her life living in dreams with reality _inflicted_ upon you. There is no sibling to save, Sarah.” He entreated, his face now tight with worry as the very edges of the garden’s boundaries wavered and shadows crept forth. “No heroes or villains, just choices and the paths they lead to.”

“You would deny me, the ability to choose my own path.” Sarah retorted, “You would force me to step in your Kingdom whilst sleepwalking and keep me there. Why would I ever choose to go with you?”

The King’s frustration grew as his eyes darted back and forth between Sarah and the rolling waves of hazy fog that drifted over the dead grass.

“It is inevitable.” His voice darkened, “You will come with me one day of your own will. What is more, you’ll enjoy everything I have to offer you.”

“You dare to presume what I want.” Sarah’s voice shook, “I wanted my dreams back, I wanted to feel like I was alive again instead of waiting for the moment that I wouldn’t be able to wake up anymore.” She angrily scrubbed at her eyes, furious that he was seeing evidence of her weakness at the moisture that lay there, giving her away.

She too began to feel unnerved by the twisting shadows, they seemed to thicken and grow in opacity as she observed them. It reminded her too much of the usual content of her dreamless sleep, the hungry devouring maw of darkness.

“You’re being childish.” He snapped back at her, “You’re refusing to even consider my offer out of pride. Can’t you feel the connection between us, the fascination that drew you into my world? It brought you the story...the key, the Labyrinth chose you.” His voice sounded scornful, although, Sarah could see his confidence waning as he genuinely seemed bewildered by her rejection.

Maybe it was time she brought out the big guns.

Her lips curled up into a smirk of confidence, she felt exhilarated by the sudden look of caution that dwelled on his face. Sarah knew the words, they’d saved her once and they’d save her again.

“ **You have no power over** -” Her Words rang with strength before she was sharply cut off by a hacking fit of coughs.

Sarah’s eyes watered, one hand reached up to touch her throat as she attempted to say it again. “ **No powe** -” Once more she began to choke, the Words refused to come out; defiant glee shone in the eyes of the Goblin King.

“Oh dear, was there something you wished to say to me, Sarah?” His voice was a mockery of everything friendly and caring, “I can’t quite make out what you’re saying, I’m afraid.”

Her throat now constricted with her need to hold back the sobs that wanted to burst forth, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of watching her cry over him. She didn’t know what he had done to her but she was determined to find another way to be free of him.

The Goblin King thought she was being prideful, well she would bite back her pride and confront him with what she knew to be true. _He was insane._ _There was no connection between them._

Who wouldn’t be intrigued by a world of magic, a world that turned out to be cruel and confusing but beautiful nonetheless?

 _How dare he pretend that she was special, important to him_. He was likely the one responsible for her receiving that damned book in the first place. How many girls had he lured into his Labyrinth with promises of dreams and delights beyond their imaginations?

_He had stolen her Words._

Sarah spoke at last, “You’ve tormented me, and maybe I deserved that, I never should have wished Toby away.” She continued sadly, her voice wavering “But I don’t want this, I don’t want to see you, to think about you. I want to live my life without fear of you coming after me in revenge. There is no connection between us.” After a momentary pause, “You’re...scaring me.”

This didn’t feel brave. She didn’t feel empowered by speaking the truth. The world didn’t fall down around them, although there didn’t seem to be much left of it in any case.

No, it was Jareth’s face that fractured, his aloofness and smug certainty that he was right had been washed away as he finally _looked_ at her.

“This wasn’t-” Jareth began, “She said that—why-” He grew noticeably distressed as he took in the misery painted across her face and the soft tremor of her limbs as she continued to stare him down in spite of her fear. Fear that he had caused.

Sarah didn’t know what to make of his reaction as he edged as close as he could to the line separating them. All he had ever done was trick her and try to trap her against her will.

She wouldn’t let him convince her that he was oblivious to the anguish he had caused. _After all, wasn’t this all a game to the Goblin King?_

_If the Words at the end of the book couldn’t help her then maybe another set of Words would._

Sarah was sick to death of the terror that her dreamless nights instilled within her. For a single moment, she had hope that things would change, that maybe he would change...help her.

“I wish...” Sarah began, her eyes flashing defiantly, noticing the way that the Goblin King’s uneasy expression swiftly shifted into what she hoped was panic.

“Sarah-don’t-”

“I wish that the Goblins would take you away.” Saying it again after all this time set her heart racing. Sarah had promised herself that she would never use those Words, not after the consequences she had faced last time. “Right now.”

The only thing she could make out was the two of them, even the now skeletal frame of the tree was shrouded in darkness. The Goblin King no longer looked radiant and untouched, the luminance of his skin looked sickly and his eyes looked sorrowful.

He had no right to look so sad.

Sarah watched with fascination as the Goblin King swallowed heavily. “I had forgotten how young you were.” He spoke quietly, it wasn’t quite an apology; in fact, Sarah felt rather insulted that she was being dismissed once again as being childish. “I cannot explain why I know you are meant to be by my side.” For the first time since she’d met him he almost looked human in his weariness, “But I do know that I am hurting you...I never wanted that.”

There was a strange scurrying sound in the darkness; two distorted shapes appeared at the foot of the fairy ring. Sarah jumped back a bit, flinching when she made contact with the frigid wave of blackness that had crept closer.

The two Goblins that had arrived looked nothing alike. One was a burly figure coated in thick blonde hair, the top of its head came up to her waist. The other wasn’t even as tall as the Goblin King’s boots and was covered in iridescent blue scales.

The Goblins glanced at one another before shooting dubious looks at their King.

“He’s a bit bigger than the normal ones.” Rasped the shorter Goblin.

“We take! We take!” Clamoured the taller Goblin. “Boss wished-away! Boss wished-away!”

The shorter one squinted at the King with his beetle-like eyes, “You don’t say.” A set of spines pricked-up on its back as it watched the Goblin King narrow his eyes at them. “Sorry Sire.” It paused awkwardly, looking over at an opened mouthed Sarah that hadn’t quite believed that the Goblins would come a second time, not for him. “Is now a convenient time...or we can...you know... come back later?” It shrugged awkwardly.

The previous melancholy the Goblin King had displayed vanished in the presence of his subjects. Sarah couldn’t help but feel sorry for dragging them into this mess but she was running out of ideas.

“Leave.” The King spoke coldly.

The larger Goblin opened its mouth to refute the order, prepared to insist that it was its duty to take away someone who was wished-away but was thankfully cut off when it yelped in pain. The smaller scaly Goblin had sunk its razor-sharp teeth into its hand in warning. 

"Right, right. We'll come back when you're not busy." They briefly exchanged looks before vanishing back into the shadows.

Sarah cringed when the Goblin King’s attention settled upon her once more. Her dubious saviour duo had turned out to be completely useless after all.

“You’ve fulfilled your end of the bargain.” Whilst he didn’t look as menacing as when he had confronted his subjects, Sarah was still put on edge by the blank mask of calm that had settled upon his face. In a way, it was more disturbing than those gross caricature masks worn by the guests in the ballroom.

“I shall trouble you no longer. After all, I doubt you intend to Run the Labyrinth on my behalf.” Jareth’s smile was a wistful thing; it worried Sarah that she was beginning to feel a twinge of sympathy for him. “Goodbye, Sarah.”

Before she had a chance to question his change of heart, to say anything to him at all, his face began to waver in and out of sight as the Once-Beautiful-Turned-Nightmarish-Garden faded away before her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure y'all are better at making up riddles than I am. I'm sorry, I don't know how to write riddles. If my life depended on me solving a riddle I would simply die, my brain cannot solve them. 
> 
> I'm afraid I get some sort of sick joy out of Adam the Tree's appearances.
> 
> I hope you liked the two random Goblins
> 
> That's hardly the last of Jareth, next chapter there will be a time skip to her twenties since I'm not about to write anything romantic with a sixteen-year-old Sarah.
> 
> Anyways, poor Sarah, right? And future Sarah seems to have really messed with younger Jareth, oops


	3. Rule Three: You must know where you truly belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of introspection and angst, welcome to the beginning of plot elements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It lives, it breathes, it writes.
> 
> So, this is my first real attempt at writing Jareth's POV in the beginning; it was definitely much harder than writing Sarah. I guess they don't really interact per se in this chapter but you still see both of them.

There is an itch in the back of his mind. There is a disquieting hollowness inside of him; he fills it with the inane babble of his subjects and books he has read so often they turn to ash in his impatient hands.

His crystals remain dull and unresponsive when he attempts to scry.

The pervading sense of wrongness refuses to abate.

If he were of a more amiable, forgiving temperament he might laugh at his Lover-Adversary’s ingenuity. Hope was the cruellest of gifts to offer, _he would know._

Sarah, _beautiful Sarah_ , how lovely she was when she begged for him to free her husband and child, from the binding of her own hasty words.

How breathtaking she was when she negotiated with blistering confidence and an infuriatingly knowing smile.

So convinced was he by her half-truths and the devotion in her eyes, he had neglected the snare that lay at his feet. For all his taunting and insistence of the contrary, he was _not_ her husband. Not yet, and may never be.

_Jareth-The-Other_ , who met each challenge readily, so sure he could best that which he once failed so painfully, easily fell to an unavoidable trap. He should have been the one that failed; _he owed her that much._

_How he despised his older counterpart._

It was the gratingly casual return of endearments that fell from Sarah’s mouth when she called to him. It was the ugly softness in his gaze as the formidable Goblin King of his future unravelled at the edges with detestable kindness.

_I had her too. In my Labyrinth, on my throne._

His future self wasn’t a better version than him. And this older Sarah was not, alas a better version than her vivacious and stubborn teenage self.

At least the younger Sarah had been sincere. Her proclamation of fear didn’t sit well in the hungry cavern of his chest that once clamoured for her fealty. Innocent young Sarah, who had been hurled into his path by the uncaring Goblin Queen that thought only of her own family, perhaps as much a victim as he.

The Goblin Queen was not so reluctant as she pretended, her eyes would burn and her sharp tongue would jab at his unhealed wounds, yet all it took was a touch and some well-placed words to make her _bend_.

In the end, he was the one that had been _bent_ to her will, _snapped_ in half and discarded as she reclaimed her husband in exchange for a promise that withered and died like a rejected dream.

Sentiment had slid between his ribcage as he had allowed himself to dream that one day he might have what his despicable future self had, so long as he trusted the Goblin Queen and released her family.

_But Sarah didn’t want him._

Remorse had been the knife that cleaved young Sarah from him as he second-guessed his convictions and the aggravating fascination that refused to let him think of any other.

Now he had neither Sarah, just the memory of how the Goblin Queen had tasted under his practised tongue, and the knowledge that his Fairytale-Sarah, The-Princess-That-Would-Grow-Up-To-Be-A-Queen had recoiled from him in horror before banishing him.

Rejected thrice. He would laugh if it didn’t cause the shards of glass in his chest to rattle and tear at his unprotected organs.

Being inexorably bound to the fate of both Sarahs by a single frayed piece of yarn was not enough.

He had coveted the girl that called to him with her Words and untamed imagination. _What a fascinating little thing she was_. Losing her to her victory over the Labyrinth had been an exquisite agony.

Sarah-The Goblin-Queen, Thrice-Champion-of-the-Labyrinth had been something else entirely.

“If you’ve quite finished brooding,” an impatient voice called out.

Jareth’s attention snapped to the figure at the foot of the dais his throne was mounted on. “As pleasant as ever I see.” He noted, “Do make yourself at home, Ayra.”

His guest gave the throne room a cursory glance with her signature disdainful expression. “And what a home it is.” She ascended the steps, coming to a stop in front of her brother.

He felt an odd pang of something regretful as he took notice of the long silence that stretched out between them. How long had the throne room been deserted? How long had it been since he’d allowed his subjects to share his company?

“I am in need of your assistance,” he finally spoke. The words curdled in his mouth like sour milk.

Ayra tilted her head curiously, something cold and alien in her regard. “So you said. It is quite unseemly for one such as I to be at the beck and call of idle requests.” With a casual twist of her hand, a stream of clear liquid shot forth, the strands braided together in the air, forming a throne, before solidifying. She arched an eyebrow at Jareth, daring him to comment on the audacity of her actions as she seated herself beside him. The heavy layers of her golden, jewel-studded gown rustled loudly as she lay back languidly. “You know where my Kingdom is,” she reminded him.

“How could I forget?” He tried to mask the bitter undertones in his retort. “It is your memory expertise I require.”

“My expertise is far more than memory.”

“Your Kingdom is built upon little more than memory cast in crystal,” he rebuked. His memories of the Crystal Kingdom always evoked a feeling of intense coldness and sterility. The eerie echoes and disjointed beings that served as her subjects unnerved him to this day.

Finally, there was a flash rage in his sister’s topaz eyes, before it was quickly masked under an icy veneer of civility. “You underestimate the importance of memory.” A strangely sharp smile crossed her face, “Or perhaps you don’t. What ails you, brother dear?”

“A memory,” He breathed. A sharp lance of pain shot through him as he recalled a taunting smile, a startling viciousness and a longing that refused to abate. “A memory of a perfect day.”

Ayra’s eyes widened in surprise, “That’s all? You can’t rid yourself of it?”

“It is...entangled with other memories that I desire to keep.”

His sister let out a sigh, slumping forwards in a manner that would have given their mother a conniption fit. “Is it that girl?” He hated the patronising smile she wore as she spoke so indifferently about _her._ “You’d be better off rid of her entirely. Pining will do you no good.”

“I do not pine.” He snapped at her. A creeping sense of worry worked itself through him as he frantically tried to recall a time he had mentioned the Champion to his sister.

He felt the Labyrinth tentatively reach out to him. He forced it away with a practised ignorance he had spent years cultivating. Despite ignoring its offer of assistance the Labyrinth saw fit to shatter Ayra’s throne beneath her, sending her tumbling back onto a pile of shards.

Jumping to her feet immediately, she brushed off the fragments of crystal while glowering at him. “This is how you ask for help is it, have you no self-control?” She loomed over his throne threateningly. For a moment he wondered whether she would strike him. But no, that wasn’t in her nature. The abrasive note that had entered her voice faded away.

Part of him regretted that she so often left her resentment unvoiced, her feelings trapped away within a cage of ice and steel.

“Your _beloved_.” Her mouth twisted in distaste, “Will not be too young forever. And willing or not there are many strategies that can be deployed to claim a bride,” she continued, conversationally.

Jareth felt a flash of heat surge inside of him, he forced himself to push away the thoughts he had spent far too long entertaining. He was well aware of the numerous ways he could trap Sarah. The Goblin Queen’s gift had been exactly what he needed to do so.

“I will not do that to her.” He forced the words out wearily. _No matter how close he had come to trapping her in the fairy ring._ Besides which, Sarah’s banishment had made it nigh impossible to commune with her in any meaningful way, aside from a dull, aching tug in an indeterminable direction

There had been multiple attempts where he’d tried to keep Sarah’s future self with him, to bind her with the inaccuracy of her words and her hasty declarations. Throughout it, all she had never feared him and the astonishing devotion in her eyes had given him the vindication to follow through in his plans.

Thinking back to the horror reflected in Sarah’s eyes as she shoved him back and choked on her lost Words was deeply unsettling.

He couldn’t stand her looking at him like that.

“I could.” She offered, offhandedly.

“No, I think not.” His own smile was jagged as he fought off the desire to expel her from his castle, violently.

“Very well.” Ayra conceded. “Look around you, brother. When did you last _look_ at your Kingdom?”

“I am looking at it now.” Jareth stared at musty drapes, clinging to grimy windows, he looked at the cracked pillars bowing under the weight of the ceiling, he glanced at the door that was rusted shut from disuse.

“No, you’re not.” She shook her head sadly. “But if you think it will help you, I shall rid you of your tormenting day. I just hope you remember that I warned you.”

~*o0o*~

“Sarah, Sarah look!”

She blinked up in surprise as her younger brother dropped a fluorescent green item onto her lap. She closed her book and set it down beside her, casting a warning look at the spider adjacent to it.

“Nice one Tobes. You found a glow stick; I guess someone must have been having a party.” Taking note of her lack of pockets, Sarah wrapped it around her wrist and hid it beneath her sleave, somewhat wary of her seven-year-old brother deciding to snap it and drink the contents. He’d been known to drink stranger things. There was a reason the shoe polish was placed in one of the higher cupboards.

The other reason was that the contents kept mysteriously vanishing, and definitely wasn’t being used to give Ludo’s reddish fur some highlights in an impromptu salon session.

She leaned back against the tree, trying to find a comfortable position against the uneven surface. With a scowl she flicked the spider off the cover of her book, daring it to come back.

“Will you play with me?” Wide blue eyes turned to her beseechingly and she felt her heart melt under her brother’s gaze.

“Give me ten more minutes. I just need to finish this chapter off.” She assured him. “Maybe you could play with the other children?” She gestured to the swing set across from them, occupied by a boy around Toby’s age wearing a backwards baseball cap.

Toby shrugged; instead, he planted himself next to Sarah and rested his head on her shoulders. _Karen had gone a little bit overboard with the head shaving,_ she thought to herself, as short blonde bristles ticked her neck.

She shifted again, torn between asking Toby to get off of her so her circulatory system could be relieved and the desire to remain still. Her brother wouldn’t always be an adorable child who leapt at the chance to spend time with her.

Attempting to focus on her book, she read the same paragraph over and over again. Each time she read it, the words made even less sense than the last. _It was just one of those days._ The relief that came with having time off of college was swiftly crushed, like an elephant’s dreams of becoming a professional ballerina, when she learnt how much coursework she was expected to complete.

With an irritated huff, she nudged Toby, who yawned and staggered to his feet with bleary eyes.

“Ugh, I think that’s enough of that for today. Let’s go play then.” She gave him an encouraging smile, which he attempted to return with a slight waver.

“Why are you reading the book if you don’t like it? Mum says that I should only pick out a library book if I think it looks en-gage-ing.” He sounded the last word out deliberately, with a proud grin. “Is it not a good book?”

Sarah groaned quietly, “It’s not that kind of book. It’s the kind of book where people like to give their long complicated opinions on uncomplicated topics. What I wouldn’t give, to have the time to read something fictional for fun.”

“Maybe we could go home and read,” Toby suggested.

“Karen says the fresh air will do you good.” Sarah started, before immediately relenting. Toby did look rather tired. “Oh well, I guess we can come to the park tomorrow instead.” She let Toby pull her to her feet, but paused for a moment when she found a small bird perched on it.

“Hi, Mr Bluebird.” Toby greeted, cheerfully.

The bird chirped back and flitted off onto one of the lower branches of the tree she had been sat under. Sarah stared at it for a moment, unable to shake off the feeling of anxiety that welled up inside of her. The bird seemed to stare back, unperturbed by Toby’s attempts to reach it.

_It’s not like it’s an owl._

She mentally berated herself for thinking she had some kind of built-in detector for bird-imposters. There was a far simpler word that described her wariness towards birds in close proximity. _Paranoia._ Despite, not seeing a trace of the Goblin King for six years, it didn’t mean that he was far from her thoughts.

Under Toby’s prompting, she gave the bird a hesitant wave before forcing a certain glittery Monarch out of her mind. She didn’t like to think about the way his victorious smirk had faltered, and what looked like concern had bled through his taunting exterior. She wouldn’t feel sorry for the baby-snatching, dream-stealing-chicken.

~*o0o*~

Sarah watched her mirror ripple in front of her with trepidation. This was the twelfth time this week she’d tried to call for her friends, to no avail. It was only Tuesday. She attempted to brush off her concerns, _maybe they were busy._ They did have lives outside of her.

_Maybe they’d finally been dunked in the bog for some innocuous slight against the King._ She hoped Hoggle had finally worked up the courage to teach the Goblins that song he wrote about their esteemed leader, whilst drunk on ale.

She ignored the haze of guilt settling uncomfortably in her chest. She didn’t call for them as often as she used to. There had been a time they were with her every night, her constant companions to battle against the darkness and the hollow grief that her dreamless sleep left her with.

Now her nights were awash with colour and warmth, a dizzying variety that had been jarring at first. When she’d regained the ability to dream, it had been all she wanted to spend her time doing. There is an indescribable delight that comes with submerging one’s self in fantasy and watching the responsibilities of reality fade away.

“Any time now guys,” she murmured, under her breath.

The rippling ceased. The only thing the mirror reflected was her own alarmed expression and the nervous tap-tap of her fingers against her leg.

With a heavy sigh, she fell back on her bed and shut her eyes. Sarah hadn’t been home in months, but when she looked at the faded wallpaper and peeling posters it was almost like she’d never left.

There was a small niggling doubt in the back of her mind. One that whispered she’d created a complex delusion to cope with her past insomnia, a delusion that had followed her to adulthood.

What if her friends never responded again?

_Stupid._ Sarah hissed at herself, tampering down on her spiralling thoughts. It can’t be healthy to assume the worst all of the time, even if it did dull the blow of disappointment.

_Dependent._ It was another ugly word she could ascribe to herself, on top of the paranoia.

What would her life be without the memories of her adventure into the Labyrinth? She couldn’t imagine being cut off; no longer seeing a flash of a short scaly creature in the cupboard doorways or a glimpse of a tiny glittering form shrieking abuse at her neighbour's gardener for pruning the roses too vigorously.

The world was a grey and monotonous place, as she trudged from one task to another, desperately fending off her parent’s questions about what she was planning to do with a degree in English Literature. For starters, if they knew just how many backpacks she’d worn through, carrying her textbooks around campus, perhaps they’d give her a break.

After seeing that the universe was a lot more complex than it appeared, it would seem that reality often fell shockingly short of her expectations. Clocks didn’t hold thirteen hours, gravity wasn’t subjective and dreams were just dreams. The last one should have been a relief.

_Right, right, dependency..._

A year without dreams had made their return all the sweeter. Karen had been concerned by how often she’d slept in, how she clung to the images in her mind that were a sharp contrast to the yawning abyss that had awaited her night after night.

_So cold. Trapped. Lost. Alone. This wasn’t darkness...this was something worse...it is absence...it is being f o r g o t t e n_

A small part of her wondered whether she would have been happier had she never set foot in the Labyrinth. To grow up without the knowledge she’d been walking around blindfolded. To allow fairytales and wishes to fade into childish obscurity.

_Too late now._

The Labyrinth had taken root in her mind, a world of the impossible; a world of change. It pained her to think that even dangers untold and hardships unnumbered would be better than laborious routines and endless essays.

What would have happened if she had stepped into the circle?

_No_. She wasn’t going to think about it...or _him._

The only reason he had looked so sad was because he’d lost again. He’d lost Toby and failed to trick her into giving him up at the end. Even if he had offered her dreams. 

Sarah allowed a slight smile to cross her face as he recalled his indignant surprise when she’d called upon the Goblins to remove him. Not that she expected it had done anything over than send him back to his castle to sulk.

Clearly, his intentions were anything but harmless.

He seemed very invested in forcing her into glittery dresses while his guests mocked her behind masked smirks. Maybe she would never have remembered who Sarah Williams was if she hadn’t been lucky enough to wish for his name.

Nowadays, she went as far as avoiding to _think_ his name. If she could dream, then there was always the chance that he could come back.

~*o0o*~

“Sarah, dear. Don’t play with your food.” Her stepmother chided, tilting her head in the direction of Toby. The message was clear: _don’t encourage your brother to mess around. The last time he ate lasagne, we were here for two hours while he pushed it around his plate before sculpting it into a row of people._

Sarah nodded back in the affirmative, _no Karen, we wouldn’t want a repeat of the great lasagne war saga, as the troops of béchamel-pasta fought bravely against the marmite?-broccoli battalion._

She dearly longed for the day when Karen would realise that her mother was not a fantastic cook, and inflicting her recipes on her own children was a stepping stone away from child cruelty.

Marmite may be a savoury ingredient but it did not belong in lasagne by any stretch of the imagination.

“What are your plans for this evening?” Her father asked, he too seemed to be hiding pieces of burnt lasagne underneath his vegetables.

“Probably read for a bit.” _And see if she could get through to her friends._ Was there such a thing as an inter-dimensional power cut that could stop her friends from crossing over?

“You and those books.” He shook his head. “There’s more to the world than stories. When I was your age, I had apprenticeship work at a law firm. That certainly made me grow up quickly.”

“Yes. I’m sure the hardships of negotiating over an apple tree infringing on another person’s property, really opened your eyes to the gruelling world and the cruelty of man.”

Sarah grinned at the amused snort she managed to earn from Karen as her father looked at them both disapprovingly. Her father’s witty rebuttal was cut short when the Paratrooper-Lemon-Zest-Carrots were propelled onto his plate by a bored Toby.

“Mom, will you read me a story tonight?” He pleaded.

“Only if you finish your dinner.”

Toby looked like he’d rather be shot. _Hell_ , Sarah would rather be shot.

“The lad’s had a long day.” Their father pleaded for mercy on his son’s behalf. “Maybe we should let him go to bed. A story will do him good.”

Karen frowned at this. “You haven’t been telling him funny stories, have you, Sarah?”

“No?” She blinked in confusion, “Why?”

“He’s not slept through the whole night in weeks.” Karen continued, reaching over to press a hand to her son’s forehead with an expression of grave concern. “You’re not sickening are you, pet?”

Toby shook his mother’s hand off him, “If I am, does that mean I don’t have to eat any more of this?” He scrunched up his face with all of the tact that only a seven-year-old could possess.

Karen’s face grew stony and Sarah leaned back in her chair in preparation for the inevitable fall out.

~*o0o*~

Sarah was following a bluebird. She wasn’t sure why exactly; only that it had seemed a good idea at the time. It wasn’t the best rationalisation, she was sure that her mother had thought it was a good idea at the time to spend her college fund on gifts for her latest boyfriend. That hadn’t turned out well. 

This probably wouldn’t either.

She followed the bird up the winding path of a hill, watching it dance from tree to tree before it shot ahead into the branches of one particular tree.

Was ‘tree’ the right word to describe the behemoth she was approaching?

The top of it was obscured by the bank of clouds it pierced through. Embedded within the branches, glinting out from between broad, emerald leaves, sat small lights. Gold and glowing they remained steady and silent.

Sarah wasn’t sure why silence was a notable characteristic of the lights. Aside from the low buzz of the hallway light bulb in her student accommodations, most lights she came across were on the quiet side.

If the tree was coniferous, she would have sworn it was a Christmas tree. Admittedly, on the larger side. She knew a few malls that would be envious of its size.

The floating architecture, on the other hand, they could do without.

Then again, Ikea was quite ambitious, so you never know.

Pillars and broken archways drifted past with a gentleness that belied the weight of the hefty stones it was composed of.

The closer she drew to the tree; the clearer it became that there was a figure slumped against its mighty trunk in repose. There was a bowed head with long golden hair splayed out across the lengthy cloak of feathers, draped around the body like a shroud.

_The Goblin King._

Sarah’s feet became glued to the spot as she stared down at him, unwilling to move closer but at the same time, too curious to run away.

_Why would I need to run, this is just a dream?_

_Dreams are dangerous._ She corrected herself, _dreams are his domain; I’m not safe here._

Sarah held her breath, convinced that should she exhale too loudly his eyes would snap open in an instant. She couldn’t hold her breath forever; so she released the air as quietly as she could.

There was no reaction.

_Oh, okay then._ Losing some of her qualms, she inched forwards slightly. _If he wakes up, being one metre away or ten isn’t going to save me._

Close up, she realised that the Goblin King didn’t look well. His face was drawn and haggard, his lips almost bloodless with great bruise-like shadows under his eyes.

He didn’t look like he was breathing at all.

Sarah knelt down beside him, a strange prickle of concern fought against her hesitancy and ultimately won. She held a hand out in front of his face, wondering whether she should try to find his pulse, but thought better of it. She eyed him like he was a feral dog, waiting to snap her fingers off.

Once again, given no indication of movement, she reached out again, letting her hand rest a few millimetres away from his face. There was a faint trace of warm air, tickling the back of her hand.

_Still alive then._

She wasn’t sure how she should feel about that...relieved? Sarah assumed that finding a dead body was rarely cause for celebration, and being a decent person she would hardly revel in the King’s demise.

Nonetheless, something was wrong. She couldn’t recall seeing him so still before, the animacy of the fire behind his eyes was wholly absent as he slumbered beneath the tree.

There was always the possibility that _this_ Goblin King was a figment of her imagination.

Sarah was almost offended at the prospect of the trickster King, who so enjoyed tormenting her, would barge his way into her dreams, only to do nothing but sleep in them.

_This could be a new tactic_. She thought to herself, her bewildered mind congratulated her on this canny insight. _He could be trying to slowly drive her mad by appearing in her dreams innocuously....only too...what? Smother her with a pillow?_

He was probably trying to lull her into a false sense of security.

Even still, he really did look ill.

Sarah braced herself against the enormous tree trunk. She was startled to find how warm it was under her fingers. It was unnaturally hot with an odd vibration radiating through it. She recoiled abruptly as she became cognizant of a deep, solid thump against her touch.

It had a heartbeat.

_What the actual fuck._

As she drew away, one of the lower branches reached out and coiled around her arm to halt her actions. Instinctively, Sarah fought against the grip of the tree and was surprised to find it released her immediately. The branch remained poised in front of her but made no more attempts to grip her again.

_Okay, weird..sentient? tree. I’ve seen stranger._

Sarah didn’t know how long she’d been in this dream. There was a sense of timelessness as she continued to stare at the Goblin King’s prone form and the glittering tree, towering over him.

She couldn’t say what compelled her to reach out towards him again. She’d already ascertained that he was alive- _ish_.

Sarah had almost forgotten the bluebird she had followed here. Before her hand could make contact with the King’s face, the bird sang out in alarm and she found herself abruptly ripped away from her spot beside him.

Her back slammed into the ground and she let out a pained groan. Sarah heaved herself into sitting position, blinking hazily at the sight in front of her.

There was a shadow next to the Goblin King.

Except it was more than a shadow, it looked solid. It had certainly felt solid when it hurled her through the air.

It was difficult to make out any discernable features as to the identity of the figure. Its form was androgynous with long hair spiralling out around it. When the tendrils made contact with the Goblin King’s body, he jolted slightly, his face creasing into a grimace before smoothing out into thoughtless oblivion.

The figure was watching her, and she was utterly terrified.

Her skin felt blisteringly cold where it had made contact. One by one, the lights in the tree began to sputter out.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Its voice was saccharine, almost childish.

It wasn’t even a reprimand, just a statement.

Its form drifted forwards, tendrils disentangling from the helpless King. Despite having legs it made no attempt to walk, simply hovering above the ground and drifting forwards like a piece of seaweed upon a gentle tide.

As it drew closer, Sarah was able to see her breath form in the frosty air. She tried to scramble backwards on her hands and knees; casting a lingering look of worry at the slumped form of the Goblin King, she noticed that the bluebird was circling the tree, almost frantically.

Its face drew closer to her, void of facial features, she was unable to discern what it was feeling...whether it could even feel.

It bent its head towards her; its breath smelt sweet and rotten, like decaying lilies.

“Wakey, wakey.”

~*o0o*~

Sarah gasped awake; her arms coiled around her body as she realised how frigid her room was.

Strike that. When did she sleep on top of damp leaves and muddy grass?

“Oh, crap, crap, crap.” She began to chant as she struggled to her feet. The dim light of the streetlamp across the road provided enough illumination for her to recognise she was in the park. Sarah could make out the swing set, somehow eerier as its chains creaked in the absence of children leaping on it.

How did she end up out here? The park was a good twenty minutes walk from her house. Did she sleepwalk here?

It seemed unlikely, but then again, she recalled the time her father had told her about the friend of his that had driven to work whilst asleep. In comparison, this wasn’t nearly as remarkable.

At least her sleeping self had had the foresight to put on a pair of boots, instead of her fluffy pink slippers that would have immediately become sodden after a trek through the grass. On the other hand, she _was_ wearing navy blue flannel pyjamas with combat boots, not to mention her glowstick accessory. Sleeping Sarah was clearly not a fashion-savvy icon.

“You couldn’t even grab a dressing-gown.” She grumbled to herself as she made her way over to the gate.

Just as her hand rested on the latch, a small bird landed upon it. The darkness made colours a bit less distinct but recently she had become rather familiar with the bird in front of her.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She kept her voice low in case there was anyone of ill repute, hanging around the park in the dead of night. To be fair, she’d likely be given such a label herself if someone passed by and found her in her pyjamas addressing the wildlife.

The bluebird chirped at her, almost warningly as she lifted the latch.

Sarah hesitated. It seemed in following the bird in her dream, she’d somehow managed to follow it physically too.

The Goblin King’s gaunt face flashed through her mind, along with that _thing._

“You led me to him.” That alone was a petrifying prospect. “Why?”

The bird darted off of the gate, into a bush a few metres away. Sarah inched closer, only for the bird to take off again, never straying far enough to become out of sight.

She cast a longing look back at the gate as she thought of the warmth of her bed back home. The bird trilled once more, as though impatient for her to follow.

At least she was right. She did have an inbuilt bird-imposter-detector.

_Ha. It’s not paranoia when the birds really are out to get you._

_But it is **still** idiocy when you’re deliberately chasing them into danger._

She really didn’t think she had room in her life for two bird nemeses. Hopefully, this one was the benevolent sort of nemesis. Then again her _last_ nemesis had given her the courtesy of a six-year reprieve, so she probably wouldn’t be as lucky this time around.

Sarah continued to follow the bird. It occurred to her after around the fiftieth tree she passed that she should have come to a fence by now. But the lights in the distance grew dimmer and following the bird grew harder as she came to rely on the sound of its song as her guide.

She had no legitimate reason to be doing this. Why should she follow a bird of dubious origins in the dead of night? There could be a horrible trap lying in wait for her.

No, she’d entirely lost her sense of reason.

_She felt excited._

Her heart thrummed loudly in her chest, and her blood sang in her veins as she drew closer and closer to something.

**Magic.** It was magic that left the stain of static-like anticipation prickling her skin and wonder swooping through her chest.

How long had it been since she tasted magic, aside from the paltry shimmer of her mirror, foretelling the arrival of her friends? How long had it been since she could breathe it in?

Sarah came to a halt in front of a pair of trees. Their trunks contorted forwards into a narrow archway. Beyond the archway, there was only darkness, thicker and heavier than the night time shadows that painted the park with obscurity.

The bluebird passed through the archway before twisting and turning before her eyes into the form of a woman. Despite the blackness of the park and the further blanket of shade cast by the trees, Sarah could make out every detail of the person she had followed.

Her skin radiated a gentle light like a faraway star, but her golden hair and amber eyes burnt like the sun in a frighteningly familiar face. There was something about the dramatic sweep of her brows and the aristocratic planes of her face that sent warning bells clamouring in her mind.

“You’re more trouble than your worth.” The woman spoke with a desperation that failed to be concealed behind her supercilious words. “But I suppose you’ll do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doing this instead of revision, wish me luck for my January exams XD
> 
> I hope you're all doing okay and staying safe <3
> 
> Next time we get to see the Labyrinth...


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